


Bowling

by indistinct_echo



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Growing Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22755376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indistinct_echo/pseuds/indistinct_echo
Summary: Dan and Phil have gone bowling a number of times throughout the years.2009 - 2010 - 2012 - 2015 - 2017 - 2020
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	Bowling

2009

The first time they go bowling is by accident. They’re inside of an arcade, on one of their very first dates. Phil is trying to impress Dan, and he secretly hopes to win enough tickets to ‘buy’ him a stupid-cute prize. Maybe a stuffed bear, or a plush heart.

So far, he’s not doing great. He misses nearly all of the shots at the basketball toss, and, while he does have a lucky streak with the dartboard, he only seems to get near the bullseye when Dan isn’t looking.

He competes with Dan in whack-a-mole. Phil had been the one to suggest the competition, but he mentally curses his ‘past’ self for the entire duration of the game. He is too conflicted about whether to try to beat Dan to demonstrate his talent or to just let Dan win. He ends up frozen with indecision which means that Dan wins, and Phil looks like an idiot.

Phil tries to stay positive. He doesn’t want Dan to think he’s a sore loser. He wants to seem confident. Cool. Something more than the dorky guy who makes videos in his bedroom and gets way too nervous around his maybe-boyfriend.

So, when they run out of games that they’re excited by and decide to walk around, Phil suggests checking out the bowling alley in the back of the arcade. It’s not that he thinks he’ll actually be good at bowling, but he wants to show that he’s spontaneous and can come up with good ideas. That, and he just wants to fix the awkward silence that’s fallen between them as they struggle to keep up conversation. He knows it’s common with new couples, knows that it will take time for them to find their rhythm, but he’ll say anything to prevent Dan from worrying his lip every time the conversation tapers off.

The bowling alley isn’t quite a standard one. The lanes are too short and are more narrow than Phil’s used to. He tries his best to avoid the gutters; he needs to impress Dan, after all.

They’re at the stage where they flirt and make out but also where nothing’s yet been clearly defined. Phil wants it to be. He wants to ask Dan to officially be his boyfriend, and he wants Dan’s face to light up when he says yes. For some reason, Phil thinks that, in order for it to happen, he needs to be good at bowling. He’s not good at many sporty activities, bowling included, but now he’s upped the pressure. And he knows he’s being over-dramatic, but it feels like his entire relationship is on the line. If he can’t impress Dan somehow, he doesn’t know if Dan will bother to stick around. Bowling is the last-ditch effort.

So, Phil takes bowling balls that are too heavy for him and stands his ground even when Dan is skeptical. Despite his best attempts, Phil doesn’t get any strikes. He barely scrapes by with two spares he makes only once he gives in to Dan’s teasing and switches for a lighter ball. Dan is doing much better, and it’s the first time someone gloating doesn’t make Phil feel lesser than. Dan’s just so _joyful_.

And, maybe Phil didn’t actually impress Dan, but he certainly was able to make Dan laugh, and that feels just as satisfying. Giggling over Phil’s concentration face with his eyebrows furrowed low and his tongue poking out. Laughing when Phil yelps because Dan jabbed a finger into his side to get his attention and almost causing him to drop a bowling ball in the process.

He doesn’t win enough tickets to get any good prizes. In fact, Dan ends up giving Phil a few of his own so that Phil can get an alien-shaped eraser. Dan gets some tacky plastic sunglasses, but, somehow, he still looks good.

They get ice cream on their way out. The conversation now flows easier, and it lightens some of the pressure in Phil’s chest. It’s a good day.

_

2010

It’s the third time Dan’s brought up bowling this week. It’s not like Phil is oblivious, but bowling as a date activity doesn’t seem particularly exciting. He’d much rather go to mini golf if they even have to go out at all. Dates are fun, but his favorite times are when he and Dan cuddle on the sofa, not doing anything other than spend time together.

But dates are fine. Good, even. He likes taking Dan somewhere special, likes how they get all dressed up for each other despite having passed the stage of needing to impress. It’s nice though, when he can manage it, impressing Dan. Having Dan’s eyes flit over Phil’s body whenever Dan thinks he won’t be noticed. Dates stir up the flippy feeling in his chest that he now associates with excitement rather than nerves.

Bowling doesn’t give him any such feelings. Phil doesn’t want to shoot down Dan’s idea, but, to be honest, he thinks bowling is kind of lame. Bowling is the type of activity he’d do with his parents and older brother who always let him use the bumpers and took cheesy pictures of the family in their bowling shoes.

So, Phil asks Dan about it, why he wants them to go bowling together so badly. Even if it is not Phil’s favorite activity, if it’s meaningful for Dan he’d be willing to give it a go. He figured maybe Dan used to play a lot as a kid, maybe liked the comforting, family-friendly nature of the venue. He certainly doesn’t expect it when Dan tells him that he wants to go bowling because it feels rebellious.

Rebelliousness is definitely not what comes to mind when Phil pictures bowling.

Dan rolls his eyes when he expresses as much.

“It’s standard date etiquette, Phil. You’re never supposed to let a guy take you bowling.”

As explanations go, this one is pretty shit. It is not, by any means, remotely clarifying. It’s only when Dan moves closer and whispers in his ear that he finally understands, a shiver running down his spine.

_When a guy takes you bowling, it’s just an excuse for him to stare at your ass._

Phil quickly schedules their bowling date for Tuesday night.

_

2012

There are four voices shouting as Phil begins to carefully type the names of the players into the console at the top of their lane. The only person not shouting at Phil is Dan. Everything about him is subdued. He’s wearing black – as always – but it feels less like a statement and more like hiding. He types something out on his phone and looks completely disinterested in spending time with the friends currently yelling in Phil’s ear.

Phil sighs. He gets it, he so gets it, and a part of him wishes he could affect the same charade of disregard. But at least one of them needs to entertain their friends and keep up the pretense that nothing is wrong. So even though Dan’s name isn’t amongst the cacophony, he dutifully types his favorite three-letter word into the slot for the first player. He tries to ignore the bitter taste in his mouth when he leaves his own name for last.

 _At least they’ll follow each other between rounds_ … For now, that has to be enough.

Even if the distance between their names on the monitor feels like a physical manifestation of the wedge that’s being lodged between them. No, not between _them_. But between themselves and their image. Between themselves and their audience.

And it sucks because they are so grateful, but it’s not easy to be grateful when it all sucks.

Maybe they’re being overly cautious. They’ve been out together plenty of times before and never worried this much, never tried this hard to seem so distinctly not together. But Dan received a message yesterday addressed to his personal email – one that he’s never shared online – that contained some choice words which have left them shaken. They feel exposed. _Vulnerable._

They take comfort in the safety of being in a group, make tiny changes that might seem insignificant but render it so much easier to breathe. It’s not a perfect fix – the emotions are still present even if the cause of them is not – but Phil is willing to do anything to prevent the panic from overtaking them both.

The game starts.

Dan casually unfolds himself from his position on the bench and grabs the ball closest to him. Phil is somewhat surprised that Dan had even been paying enough mind to know he was up to bowl. He rolls the ball down the lane without any fanfare. He waits. And then he does it again. Eight pins. Dan doesn’t respond to or return any of the encouragement sent his way.

That doesn’t stop Phil from trying to keep a positive attitude. He cheers when people get strikes or spares or even just one pin. And, when it’s his turn to bowl, he intentionally goes all out. Makes a big show of sweeping his leg back as he throws, twists his body in the direction he hopes for the ball to spin. It’s not a strategy that’s been proven to be successful, if success is measured as the ability to clear bowling pins. But, when the desired result is getting a certain man to at least crack a smile, he considers himself to be a bit of an expert tactician.

Gutter ball. It’s fitting because Dan not even looking up feels just like a punch in the gut.

Phil knows his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes when he turns to pick a ball for his second roll. He doesn’t bother making a fuss this time, although he does glance at Dan in his peripheral vision.

He knocks down all ten pins. It’s a spare, technically. But he knows that, if it were just the two of them, they’d playfully bicker over whether it should really count as a strike. He knows how Dan’s eyes would crinkle as they’d argue, knows that Dan would eventually give in.

The rounds continue. He is almost able to pretend that everything is okay. He jokes and laughs and maybe, just maybe, forgets that it’s more difficult for Dan to compartmentalize his feelings. Phil can put on rose-colored glasses, but, when Dan tries, all he sees is blood.

Phil’s illusion of happiness doesn’t last long. It’s Dan, of course, that snaps him out of it. Dan, standing with his toes right at the edge of the lane. Dan, holding a bowling ball in a way that looks like he is about to slam it to the ground, as though it were the approach to a cliff and not to the foul line.

But instead of throwing it down onto the maple or out towards the pins, he turns inwards, curling the ball harshly into his chest as he squeezes his eyes shut.

It’s such a Dan thing to do, and Phil’s heart breaks. Dan would never hurt a fly or even just the hardwood floor, but he is so willing injure himself in his need to physically manifest the pain he feels.

Phil’s walking towards him before he’s even registered that his feet are moving. He takes the ball gingerly from Dan and walks with him back to the pit. One glance at Dan’s face and Phil keeps them walking, returning the ball to the rack without breaking stride. He mouths “we’ll be right back” to their friends and motions for them to keep going.

They walk past the other lanes as Phil searches. When he finds a quiet corner, blocked from public view by strategically-placed vending machines, he turns towards it. Dan instinctively tuns as well, even though Phil never said anything, and they still haven’t touched.

It’s when they sit down and finally do touch – Phil’s hand coming down to rest on Dan’s knee – that the tears start. Broken, gasping sobs that wrack Dan’s body as he turns to bury his face in the crook of Phil’s neck. It’s devastating.

It’s only the hope of _someday_ that’s keeping Phil together at this point. _Someday_ it won’t be like this, _someday_ it won’t feel like this. But _someday_ is not right now, and so he sheds a few tears of his own.

They’ll follow up with each other once they’re home with words and hands that they can’t use in public. But, for now, they cry together. It has to be enough.

_

2015

They’re maybe a little bit drunk. The bowling alley is dark save for black lights and neon signs that a more sober Phil might worry could trigger a migraine. But giggling in the dark with Dan as they trip over themselves and slide around in their shoes, Phil can’t bring himself to worry about anything at all.

Not the other people at the bowling alley, not their careers, not the massive risk they’re taking by announcing a stage show next week. All he cares about now is seeing the glint of Dan’s smile under the lights.

They dance to songs that he only vaguely remembers and eat through way too many packs of crisps. They make crude gestures with their hands and the bowling balls, and they whisper dirty nonsense in each other’s ears. Phil feels young and free in a way that barely feels familiar. Singing off-key with Dan, he doesn’t know if he’s ever experienced a night this perfect.

They put up the bumpers without even so much as a blush, and just go for it. They only get in trouble when they roll four bowling balls down the lane simultaneously, at Phil’s insistence. He still maintains that it’s the best way to get a strike.

Phil does surprisingly well. Maybe it’s the bumpers, but Phil has a sneaking suspicion that it’s because he insisted that Dan blow on the bowling ball for good luck before every throw.

It’s not the only thing Dan blows, late at night in a dingy handicap restroom where they don’t look too closely at the floor or the walls or at anything but each other.

When they stumble into the parking lot, Phil wishes with on the first star he sees that there’s an alternate timeline where this night never ends.

_

2017

“It’s not a big deal,” Phil pleads. “It’s not like we have to do everything together anyway.”

“Tell that to literally every outing we took in the past year,” Dan argues.

“I’m sorry,” Phil says. He means it, but he isn’t going to back down. “I just… this is something I want to do alone.”

“Yeah, but why?”

“Why does it even matter? You don’t even know them!”

“Exactly! It feels like you’re hiding them from me.”

“No, that’s not it at all.”

“Oh, so it’s _me_ your hiding from _them._ ” Dan places a hand on his hip.

“Well, no, that’s not it either.”

Dan sighs and runs his other hand through his hair.

“Look,” Phil says, “it’s not something I can explain. Just trust me.”

“I do trust you, but you’re being weird. We always go bowling _together_ , but suddenly your northern friends come around and you want to do everything by yourself.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You said that already,” Dan says, folding his arms across his chest.

Phil is about to apologize for repeating himself but bites his tongue just in time.

“Whatever,” Dan says. “Just go.”

Dan storms out of the kitchen, and Phil hears the slam of the bedroom door. He stands there for a moment; he doesn’t want to leave things this way.

Phil sighs when he sees the time on the microwave – he’s already late. He zips up his coat as he convinces himself that it’s okay for him to leave, that he should take the time to figure out how to put his feelings into words so Dan can understand and wait to broach the subject until they’re both more calm.

Phil goes to the bowling alley. He has fun, mostly. He likes seeing his friends and is really thankful that he somehow managed to keep people from secondary school in his life, despite all the craziness of the many years since.

But then there’s one moment. The one that he had dreaded.

It happens when there’s a pause in the conversation. Someone turns to him and says, “So, Phil, how’s it been, y’know, dating _blokes_? Are you seeing anyone?”

He can feel everyone’s eyes on him. Their gaze is kind, but it doesn’t stop the bubble of anxiety that rises in Phil’s chest. It reminds him too much of the past, of his friends suddenly _knowing_ before he was ready to tell them, of him suddenly being _out_ in the place he most worried about fitting in. He feels like he’s on display, like he’s a curiosity in a side-show that’s only in town for the week.

“Uh, yeah, it’s been good.” Phil leaves the second question unanswered, but nobody seems to notice.

“Lucky you,” someone scoffs, “I wish I could just date men, birds are such a pain.”

Phil forces a smile, but it feels so fucking wrong. It’s _this_ feeling, this exact moment. He doesn’t have words to describe it, but he sure as hell knows he doesn’t want Dan anywhere near this feeling. Knows that, if Dan _were_ here, the questions and comments would only be worse.

And he feels guilty because he knows his friends are only trying to be inclusive. For some reason it just sits wrong, like an almost-but-not-quite balanced picture hanging on a wall.

Maybe it’s the ‘lad’ vibe of it all, how they assume the way he looks at men is the same way they look at women. It isn’t.

Maybe it’s that his friends seem to think that they understand what it means for him to be a gay man in England. They don’t.

Maybe the claustrophobia of the closet still haunts him, even when there are no walls left to close in. It does.

He takes three deep breaths before he feels more himself again. He jumps up with relief when he realizes it’s his turn to throw.

By the time he returns to the pit, the conversation has turned to something else. His anxieties are forgotten and, thankfully, don’t make another appearance.

It’s dark by the time he gets home. The apartment is quiet. Nothing seems to have changed since Phil left. It wouldn’t be out of character if Dan spent the past few hours holed up in the bedroom, especially if he was upset. But, when Phil goes down the hall to check, their room is empty.

Phil checks his phone, despite already knowing that there are no new notifications. He considers texting Dan, but he doesn’t know if Dan would even respond. He sighs.

It’s possible Dan just went to get coffee or groceries, but Phil knows that’s wishful thinking. The more likely reason, Phil recognizes, is that Dan is trying to make a point – if Phil wants to claim they don’t always go out together, then there should be no issue with not always knowing the whereabouts of the other person.

And, if that _is_ what Dan’s trying to say with his absence, he wouldn’t be wrong.

Phil knows he didn’t communicate as well as he probably should have this morning. While he may still think that they need to trust each other and not always require explanations, Dan is correct in pointing out that it’s not the way they currently tend to behave. If this is a change that they both want, they need to discuss that and not just demand – as he had – that the change suddenly occur.

Phil looks at the clock but then realizes it’s kind of pointless – he has no idea when Dan is coming home. He could put on a show or make some dinner, let his mind be occupied with thoughts other than Dan and where he might be, but it feels fitting for him to just wait around, to face the consequences of his actions.

He sits down on the couch. He waits.

He loses himself to his thoughts and is only brought back to reality when he hears footsteps stomping up to his door and the fumbling of a key. The door swings open.

Dan walks quickly through the apartment. Phil can see Dan’s eyes snap to meet his once he senses where Phil is sitting. He turns. Walks directly towards Phil.

Dan slams something down in front of him. A bowling pin.

“Wha-?”

“If you can go bowling without me, I can go bowling without you.”

Phil can’t help the twitch of his lips at the petulance in Dan’s tone. It’s possible that Dan wasn’t trying to make quite as deep of a point as Phil had assumed.

“I even got my high score,” Dan continues. “I bought this bowling pin to prove it.”

Phil barks out a surprised laugh. “Congratulations.” He sounds so ridiculously fond.

Dan’s façade of anger falls. He gives an embarrassed smile and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Come ‘ere,” Phil says. Dan goes easily into Phil’s outstretched arms.

“I’m going to try to be better about communicating. I don’t want you to have to go spite-bowling again.”

“We certainly don’t need any more of these in the apartment,” Dan says with a gesture towards the bowling pin.

“I can’t believe you bought a fucking bowling pin.”

“I can’t believe you’re still able to be surprised by my dramatic ass.”

“Touché.”

_

2020

It’s his birthday, or, more accurately, it’s the one of the many celebrations that take place in the days surrounding the technical date of Phil’s birth.

He’s with some of his favorite people, and it’s the best birthday celebration he could ever want. It’s been a few years since he last went bowling – he had forgotten how much he’s learned to enjoy it.

Things are slightly different than he remembers. He no longer needs to put on special bowling shoes. Arcade games are much more expensive. The prizes feel more unattainable, although that might be because, as a kid, he had no real concept of the difference between one hundred and one thousand tickets.

It all makes him feel old.

Maybe that would bother him on a different day. The concept of growing old is one his greatest fears. But, today, with the celebratory nature of his birthday at the back of his mind, it feels like growth. Like nostalgia. Like change.

It’s even more pronounced because Ian’s daughter is here. It reminds him that he’s old enough for his friends to have seven-year-old children. Hell, he’s old enough that he can have a child, if he and Dan choose.

He’s old enough to give his prize tickets away, old enough that Astro Belts are too sour for him, old enough that he can’t wait to go to bed early and cuddle with Dan once they finish their public celebration.

It’s crazy, to be so old. He feels young in many ways.

He still remembers the first time he went bowling with Dan. Never in his wildest dreams would he have been able to come up with this incredible life that he gets to share with the man who is, truly, his soulmate.

He catches Dan’s eye and smiles. Despite not knowing the reason for Phil’s grin, Dan immediately beams back. He has really only got more handsome with time. Phil knows a younger version of himself would consider the thought blasphemous. Dan has always been gorgeous.

For memory’s sake, Phil winks at Dan when it’s his turn to bowl. Still hoping to make Dan laugh, even after all these years, he exaggerates his bowling wind-up, just like he used to. Tries to make a trick shot by sliding his leg in the air. It’s just as ineffective a bowling method as it ever was. He only knocks down one pin. But Dan’s resulting chuckle means… everything. Just like it always did.

Maybe he hasn’t changed that much after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Say hi on [tumblr](https://www.indistinct-echo.tumblr.com/post/190881067087/bowling)!


End file.
